


53

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3896581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick moment between Bard and Thranduil’s hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	53

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [53](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211428) by [arhkym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arhkym/pseuds/arhkym)



> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, Snow White, Game of Thrones, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Thranduil’s long hair never seems to bother him, whether it be dancing in the height of battle, racing in the wind, or lying prone across the sheets, entangled with sweaty bodies. He has it decorated very rarely, though his son often sports small, intricate braids and the captain of his guards wears a pleat down the middle and a larger braid at the end. Then, completely out of the blue, he reaches for the back of Bard’s skull, threading his long fingers into the darker, rattier strands of Bard’s mane. Bard slows his steps through the busy Dale marketplace, allowing his lover the strangely reverent touch. It’s a small surprise to have him do so in public, but then, for all Bard knows, Thranduil doesn’t consider mortal eyes worthy of bother.

Bard loops a hand around Thranduil’s arm all the same, drawing him into a side alley. He’s been ruling Dale long enough and their alliance is common enough that they don’t draw nearly as much attention as they used to, but they’re never quite unwatched. Thranduil lets himself be steered through two tall, stone buildings, and muses, “Do you have more of these ties?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Bard replies, “I suppose.” Unlike the elves, he likes to tie his hair out of his eyes for strenuous occasions, and he likes to have an extra on hand in case the children need the same. Connecting the dots, he attempts to stifle his grin and asks, “Would you like me to tie your hair?”

Thranduil’s fingers slowly withdraw from over Bard’s shoulder. In his long, silver robes and the circlet he wears outside of his realm, he looks far too elegant for the rundown Dale marketplace. But then, he’s too beautiful for most places in Middle Earth, Bard suspects. He nods curtly, and moves to stand in front of Bard, facing away, his tall back and broad shoulders covered in a cascade of white gold. Bard has to fish through three different pockets in his coat, tunic, and trousers before he finds a hair tie, which he twists between his fingers to hold on to.

Then he lifts the circlet off Thranduil’s head, placing it on his own for safekeeping. It’s strangely light and cool, fitting snug against his forehead. He brushes the smooth strands back behind Thranduil’s pointed ears, gathering enough for a ponytail, and wondering privately what Thranduil would look like with _all_ of his long waterfall bundled up on his head. 

“Make it a braid,” Thranduil notes suddenly, tilting his head enough to glance over his shoulder, though Bard gently turns him away again, now splitting the hair into three parts. “Smaller.” Rolling his eyes, Bard thins the groupings, only for Thranduil to then decide, “Thicker than that.”

“I haven’t even started yet.”

“I can feel the amount you are gathering. Be sure to make it tight.”

Bard snorts, “You’re worse than Sigrid.”

With thinly veiled amusement in his voice, Thranduil drawls, “I don’t know how to feel about being compared to your teenage daughter.”

“Feel honoured,” Bard decides for him. “I love her very much.” He loves all his children more than words can say, though he always thought it would be difficult to find romance again, with so many little ones in tow. Apparently, being a single father is something that Thranduil can relate to, even if their parenting methods are very... different.

Thranduil, in truth more difficult than Sigrid ever is, teases levelly, “But who wears your braids better?”

Bard laughs. By now he’s got the start of it, though playing with Thranduil’s hair is never a quick job. While he toils away, he assures his king, “Don’t worry, Snow White. You’re the fairest in the land.”

There’s a quiet pause. Bard continues to work, enjoying the earthy smell of Thranduil and the silken quality to his hair. Bard thinks that Thranduil must be in thought, and then is told, “That is the second reference I have heard to ‘snow white’ today. It is an odd phrase.”

“It’s a fairy tale. You haven’t heard it?” He often tells the old stories to Tilda, though he generally changes the ‘traditional’ role of the helpless princesses to self-saving warriors for her to better relate to. Her favourite tale is of Arya of the North, which Bard only had to alter in the trimming down of violence.

Apparently, elves don’t share the same stories. Thranduil says, “No, enlighten me.”

So Bard briefly summarizes, “There was a young girl, long ago—and fictitious, since you aren’t a child and might ask—named Snow White. Her wicked stepmother was the queen and known for her beauty. She had a magic mirror that she would often ask who was the fairest in the land. When the mirror answered ‘Snow White,’ the evil queen sentenced the young girl to death, so that she would be the most beautiful again.” Bard deliberately leaves out the part with all the dwarves—always a point of contention with Thranduil.

After another moment’s pause, Thranduil turns his head over his shoulder again to ask, “Am I to understand that you consider me the evil queen?” 

Thranduil pushes his face back around again. He’s impressed Thranduil drew the allusion despite Bard calling him the young girl’s name in the story. Thranduil certainly seems to fit a self-involved ruler more so than a helpless child. 

Bard answers just as calmly, “The most beautiful evil queen in the land. ...But obviously, if you should ever hurt my little girls, I’ll break more than your mirror.” He says it only to tease; he knows that Thranduil would do a great deal to protect Bard’s little ones. Neither of them mention that Legolas might fit the ‘fairest one’s role better.

Finally, he finishes the end of the braid. It trails down the center of Thranduil’s back: a mark of Bard’s handiwork. It gives him a strange pang of delight to see it on his lover. This time when Thranduil turns, Bard lets him. 

Thranduil retrieves his circlet: his royalty complete. Together, they exit back into the market, Thranduil more handsome than ever.


End file.
